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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744230">The Purple Trunk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunFire1254/pseuds/SunFire1254'>SunFire1254</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, My First AO3 Post, Original Fiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:14:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunFire1254/pseuds/SunFire1254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If you could redream a dream would you?</p>
<p>Aisling Green is a college student who has yet to declare a major and lives an average life. This all changes when one day when waiting for her train home, she finds an old fashioned trunk on the platform. Her curiosity leads her into her wildest dreams, but also gives her access to a future she would never have been able to dream of. The trunk gives her the power to redream not only her own dreams, but the dreams of those who have long since passed. With the power of dreams with seemingly no strings attached, Aisling begins her journey with the powerful trunk in hand. Was fate kind to her with this magical gift? Or, did Lady Fate have other plans when presenting this trunk to Aisling.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Purple Trunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my work in process novel. Please feel free to critique and criticize it, so I can improve!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time I witnessed the man carrying the deep purple trunk was while waiting for my eight-minute-late train. He stood gaunt against the platform as snow christened the ground, turning the world white. He was dressed in a black trench coat and hat, creating a stark contrast against the snow, like a shadow in a flash of white. There was an air of familiarity surrounding him that I could not put my finger on; it was as if I had seen him before. A deep breath distracted me from my companion, and I watched as it curled into the night air to reunite itself with the sky. I look down at my phone, catching it as the numbers on the screen change from 9:08 to 9:09. Like a fascinated child, I peeked up from the screen of my phone to catch glimpses of the man, watching to see if he would move. He did not move, not even an inch. A statue looked more likely to budge. It was in my musings of his statuesque nature that I looked down at my phone to solve the riddle that popped up only to look back at him...  gone, leaving only the trunk remaining on the platform.
<br/>
What in the world! He was just there? I glanced around in the hopes of seeing him in case he moved, but no one was around. Strange? This platform is usually busy around this time.
<br/>
I decided to approach the trunk, easing my way over and making sure the coast remained clear. Getting a closer look, I saw that it was pretty well kept for a trunk that looked like it could be hundreds of years old. It was made of a deep, worn, purple leather framed in iron. It had the name Bryan Smyth etched into a gold tag near the handle. It was laying closed on its side, but the latch seemed to be popped open, enticing any passerby to take a peek inside. I looked around once more before I gave in to my compulsive thoughts and lifted the trunks lid open.
<br/>
It squeaked open to reveal a ladder. A ladder? In a trunk? How is that even possible? An old metal ladder descends into a depth that is unreasonable for being inside a trunk. I lifted up the bottom in hopes to see a hole, but, when I lifted it, there seemed to be nothing in the ground.
<br/>
“What in the world is this?” I whisper aloud, peeking further into the trunk. The bottom of the ladder is visible and meets a metal floor, similar to an old bunker. It looks to be about 15 feet to the bottom. Grabbing the hair tie that was settled on my wrist, I hung it over the opening and dropped it down. It soundlessly fell on the ground undamaged and unbothered by the environment around it.
<br/>
Now, this is one of the weirdest things I have seen outside of a book. I can either walk away like a sane person and go home, OR I could go down into a magical trunk …<br/>
I looked up and around one last time. I am NOT missing a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something magical; a satyr never escorted me to Camp Half-Blood, and I can’t keep waiting for a late letter from Hogwarts.
<br/>
I gently propped the lid of the trunk open and began my descent into the trunk. Once I reached the bottom I was greeted by a short hallway that led to a metal door. I reach down to retrieve my hair tie and pull it back onto my wrist as I begin my inspection of the door. It was an unassuming door, and, much like the trunk itself, it looked to be hundreds of years old. I crept to it and tested the handle.
<br/>
Dang, this is heavy. I struggled to pull it open, getting only a few inches before I was able to peek inside. The first thing my senses picked up on was the smell of salt in the air and sand drying in the sun. Rays of light escaped through the cracked door, and I could hear rhythmic waves breaking on a beach. I pushed the door even further to venture into a familiar landscape mouth ajar. Memories of the dream I had the night before came rushing back to me in an instant. A white sandy beach, with a smooth stone path leading to the ocean and a cloudless horizon. I follow the stones with memories from the dream guiding me as I walked along the same path I once did.
<br/>
As I approached the crashing surf, I could see the figure I saw on the platform. He turned to face me and shared a soft smile. Getting a good look at his face I could see his gray hair reaching through his short hair and onto his face in a rough looking beard. He looked like the kind of man you would see toting around a grandchild in his arms around Disney world.
<br/>
“I was hoping your curiosity would bring you here.” he states in a baritone voice.<br/>
“Who are you?” I state defensively.
<br/>
“Bryan Smyth,” he gives a slight sigh. “I suppose you don't remember me then? Then again, not many people remember their dreams.”
<br/>
“What do my dreams have to do with this? And of course I don't remember the dream I had last night, they always go away in the morning.”
<br/>
“You’re dreams mean all the difference. I suppose I should explain The purpose of this place — Aisling — is to redream a dream.” I look at him dumbfounded as he continues, “Dreams can do many things such as reveal something crucial about us, or reveal our true feelings and desires, they may even give us a look into future. Dreams are powerful.”
<br/>
“Why am I here then? And how do you know my name?” I bite back.
<br/>
He chuckles a bit showing a genuine smile, “I guess you could say this is your lucky day.”
<br/>
“My lucky day? I'm not gonna lie, that sounds super suspicious. And you still haven't answered my question. How do you know my name?”
<br/>
“I guess I should rephrase that then,” he looks off into the sea before saying, “I guess you have been chosen to be the next carrier and protector of the trunk, and, as for your name, I learned it when I hopped in your dream last night.”<br/>
“Chosen? And hopped into my dream? You're speaking in riddles?” I spout out as I begin to back away from him. This guy is kinda creepy.
<br/>
“Personally, I think I was speaking in clear English sentences. I have the ability to enter people's dreams as they sleep, and I just so happened to enter yours where we had a lovely conversation.”
<br/>
Then a memory hit me like a bag of bricks. The feeling of familiarity is justified as my brain begins to connect the dots to the dream that took place last night. Unrecognizable snippets of a conversation, with the man that stood before me, are recovered, and I now understand why he was familiar.
<br/>
“Okay, say hypothetically I believe you, what's the catch? Am I gonna get cursed by the trunk if I'm its ‘carrier.’” I scrunch up my fingers in air quotes along with the word carrier.
<br/>
“There is none. Do with the trunk as you like. Keep it to yourself and relive your wildest dreams, or share it with others. Whichever you choose, it's up to you. And don't worry about anything, this trunk is fairly safe.”
<br/>
“So why are you giving this to me? This doesn't seem like something someone just gives away.”
<br/>
“I’m too old for this thing. I barely use it, I want to give it to someone who will.”
<br/>
“Thank you ... I guess? So how do I leave this place? As much as I love it here, I have a life and family I have to get back to and a train that's running late.”
<br/>
“Submerge yourself in the ocean and let it take you where you want to go.”
<br/>
“When I leave will I see you again?”
<br/>
“Whenever our dreams cross paths.”
<br/>
I stare at him for a moment before I nod and begin my walk into the breaking waves. As I walk into the sea I am submerged by the crystalline water that soon fills my lungs; however, the water flows through me as air would. I drift slowly in the peaceful ocean with its heartbeat against the shore lulling me into a content sleep.
<br/>
...
<br/>
When I open my eyes next it is to the shining lights of the Metra’s carriage and the thumping of the progress of the train along the tracks. I am leaning against the window with a slight dribble of saliva running from the left corner of my mouth. I quickly swipe it away and begin to sit up and gather my bearings at the abrupt change in scenery.
<br/>
Was it all a dream? I think as I look around for Bryan and his signature hat amongst the rows of seats. I get up to see if he is on the lower level of the car when my leg bumps against something hard and  I stub my toe causing pain to shoot up my leg. I release my breath through my nose as I reach down to cradle my now injured foot. I look up to see the culprit of my injury and see the deep purple trunk. My eyes widen, Bryan’s trunk? What is it doing here? As I look closer at the old leather bound trunk I notice a name inlaid in a gold where Bryan’s once was.
<br/>
Aisling Green
<br/>
Before my thoughts could run rampant I heard over the speakers, “Arriving at 100 W. Main St. Cary” My stop! Panic runs through me as I grab my backpack and begin to make sure I have all of my belongings still. Finishing up I look down again at the trunk at my feet once again. As the train comes to a stop I grab the handle and heave it up as I begin to make my exit.
<br/>
As I exit the train the cold in the air once again sends chills down my spine causing me to shiver. I begin the trek to my car with the trunk firmly in my grasp.
</p>
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